


A Failure of Modern Medicine

by handhellbasket



Series: 30 x 300 - A MicroWriMo Challenge [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (also just a little), (don't fucking try that at home kids!), (just a little), 30 x 300, Alpha rut, Alpha!Qui-Gon, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blood, Blood Drinking, Complete, Dirty Talk, Gratuitous Smut, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Knotting, Territorial Behaviour, Wordcount: Under 10.000, Work In Progress, and a "happy ending" if you know what i mean, fantastic biology, fantasy birth control, heck yeah I brought the porn people!, instincts, oh god posting is scary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8442301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handhellbasket/pseuds/handhellbasket
Summary: Qui-Gon has been using beta-hormonal implants to control his ruts for decades without incident.Unfortunately, he's about to break that streak.





	1. Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Rather than NaNoWriMo, this year I'm doing a MicroWriMo with a goal of 300 words per day. For the sake of motivation this story will probably be updated in daily chunks of approx that many words, so each chapter will probably be only one or two scenes. 
> 
> If you'd rather wait until completion to read this story with an actually decent chapter format that's perfectly fine (and probably even recommended) as until I'm done I have no idea what kind of tone, content, and direction this will take.
> 
> (knotting - there will almost certainly be knotting)

Dappled pink sunlight spilled slowly across the floor as Qui-Gon submersed himself in the Living Force. The lingering morning chill dropped from his awareness first and then the hard press of wooden floorboards beneath his knees. He sank deeper still until the brush of long hair on his bare back was as unimportant as the uneven press of smooth fabric where his leggings bagged at the ankles.

He was nothing but breath; the steady beat of his heart; and the Force.

And that damnable implant, of course.

Qui-Gon slowly released the air trapped momentarily in his lungs. The healing skin of his arm itched and, although it was impossible, Qui-Gon could almost swear he _felt_ the calming Beta hormones being pushed through his system.

Another slow, deep inhale.

It was all in his mind. He knew this. He could cast his mind back to his last implant and remember the same feeling of disgruntlement over the small lump of synthplast buried beneath his skin. Between frequent kidnappings; unexpectedly extended diplomatic stays; and the sheer general chaos that made up his time outside the Temple the implants were, and always had been, the more sensible option but _little gods_ they were unpleasant to adjust to!

Breathing.

A little hormonal instability, minor mood swings, all also normal in the first few weeks. Obi-Wan, his Master, and the entire council already knew to ignore his tetchiness at this point in time.

Creeping warmth along his upper thighs told him he’d been meditating for at least an hour. The primary star was almost fully up and if he listened closely he would probably hear his Padawan starting to stir from his own morning meditations in the next room.

However Qui-Gon was nowhere near at peace and he needed some base level of calm if he was going to spend all morning listening to that arrogant blowhard of a Ke-ke-ri President and his slimy-feeling sycophants.

With an exhale that was more of a sigh than he might like, Qui-Gon deliberately drew his focus away from the morning council, from the itch of healing skin, from everything except the warmth of the sun and the timeless now.


	2. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> btw this is unbetaed so if anyone catches any basic SPAG stuff that's slipped by feel free to point it out in the comments :)

 By the time Qui-Gon emerged from his meditations Kari-te’s second sun was cresting the horizon – casting a faintly reddish hue over his rumpled sheets and discarded boots.

He’d have to tidy up before they left for the day but for now the gaping emptiness beneath his ribs took priority. The ambassadorial suite had no kitchen but the table would hold a woven basket of native fruits while they waited for the house-keeping staff to bring more substantial fare.

House-keeping.

If they were having company he should probably wear actual clothes and not just his leggings. But he hated putting on fresh clothes before bathing.

Yesterday’s over-robe would serve as a compromise.

He thanked himself for his forethought when he opened the door to the main room. The hallway was clearly visible through the open door and –

\- someone was _inside_.

Nostrils flared instinctively as Qui-Gon stalked forward. The air was spicy-sweet with a pungent local tea blend which covered up almost everything else but he knew heralded the arrival of breakfast.

A tall Ke-ke-ri male leaned over the dining table with a platter of fried root-cakes. He was close enough his dazzling scarlet pinions brushed Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he set the platter down with a dull clack.

“Out,” he snapped.

The Ke-ke-ri seemed frozen in place but Obi-Wan looked up from his tea in surprise. “Master?”

Feathers rustling in uncertainty the Ke-ke-ri glanced towards the door. After a second he head-bobbed acknowledgement and fled.

Obi-Wan pressed his mug of tea into Qui-Gon’s hand and hurried after him. Qui-Gon glared over the rim at the hurried exchange of whispers at the door.

Then the Ke-ke-ri chittered in amusement.

“Ah!” he managed in Basic and “I see!” before he switched to the local tongue - agreeing to leave the meal trolley outside the room and to fetch a special … something … that his wife swore by.

Tension fled with the Ke-ke-ri’s clattering footsteps.

“You gave Akari quite the scare,” Obi-Wan scolded from the doorway.

Qui-Gon took a long sip of his Padawan’s tea, watching as Obi-Wan wheeled the trolley inside and transferred the contents to the table. He needed a moment to recover from the sudden flood of endorphins crashing through his system.

“I’ll apologise when he returns.” He shook his head wearily and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. “Perhaps I’m getting too old for this.”

“For manners, Master?” Obi-Wan asked drily.

Qui-Gon snorted. “ _Point_ , Padawan.” Obi-Wan ducked his head to hide a smile. “I meant for all this running about. If we were in-Temple more often I might try the patches again.”

Obi-Wan snagged one of the egg-bites they’d both become fond of. Hardboiled, coated with some kind of meat mixture, and rolled in native grains they were a delicious source of morning protein.

“Trade you,” he said. His eyes were bright with good humour. Their fingers brushed in the exchange of food for tea and for a dizzying moment Qui-Gon could taste burnt-honey on the back of his tongue.

“Have you been taking your own suppressants?” Qui-Gon asked roughly. The outer layer of grains was rough and salty but his body seemed to settle at the taste.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “I was _about to_ when someone decided to interrupt my breakfast.” There was a long pause as Obi-Wan topped up his mug of tea. Qui-Gon could tell he was itching to say something.

Finally it came. “You could try the pills yourself, you know.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head back and swallowed tea and hormone suppressants both. Qui-Gon felt something in his stomach unclench even as his eyes absently traced the motion.

Qui-Gon shook his head. He’d tried patches once long ago and it had been a disaster. Technically a successful one as it was a rare gang of slavers who could hold a rutting Alpha for long, but uncontrolled ruts were not something he courted as a rule.

“They’re very easy on the system – and I hear the half-ruts aren’t bad either.” Obi-Wan’s pale face was flushed and he was determinedly looking anywhere _except_ Qui-Gon.

Spluttering and choking on a root-cake Qui-Gon decided that it was probably best to ignore Obi-Wan’s insinuation. Qui-Gon could only lose more of his dignity by huffing and insisting it hadn’t been _that_ long since he’d had a rut.

He coughed and swallowed the last of his mouthful.

In a hoarse voice he asked, “What if I miss a dose?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “If it’s less than a week’s worth I just cramp a little.”

Qui-Gon eyed his Padawan narrowly. There’d been several times they were kidnapped, trapped, or unexpectedly stranded for far longer than a week.

“And if it’s longer than a week?”

Obi-Wan thought for a moment. “Hungry,” he eventually settled on. “I get very, very hungry. But I’ve never gone into heat unless I planned it.”

Qui-Gon charitably ignored that one month in a dungeon on Ryloth.

Obi-Wan was right in that he technically hadn’t gone into heat but by the time they were rescued he’d smelled hot and _sweet_.

Like caramel.

In those last days Qui-Gon hadn’t been able to breathe without tasting Obi-Wan in the back of his throat and he’d praised his implants daily. It had been a close enough call for Obi-Wan to vanish into a Medical heat-ward the minute they’d returned to Coruscant and even in his right mind Qui-Gon wasn’t sure what he’d have done if they’d been captives much longer.

Obi-Wan was watching him from beneath half-lidded eyes. Waiting for a response?

Qui-Gon hastily shoved more of his fried root-cake into his mouth to erase the heady sense-memories he’d stirred up and give himself time to think.

Thankfully, a tentative knock on the door provided a distraction.

Swallowing down the last bite he absently licked the oil from his fingers so he wouldn’t forget and wipe it on his robes. Obi-Wan’s pale eyes followed him to the door as Qui-Gon settled himself into the mind-set required of a senior diplomat and Jedi Master.

He had apologies to make and duties to perform.


	3. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry to miss yesterday's update. Have another "longer" chapter while I keep trying to wrestle the porn into submission ;)

Rou-tuka was a city of spires.

Stony hoodoo climbed towards the planet’s seven eye-catching rings. Narrow bridges of woven reeds criss-crossed the city and cast patterns of shadow along the ground. On the dusty surface far below and hidden by the dark shadows of the city were deep chasms and terrifying monsters– at least according to local legend.

Qui-Gon would infinitely rather be fighting whatever misbegotten creatures could be found down there than going another round with President Ti-rouka about the compensation he’d receive for the illegal off-world mining efforts the Jedi had arrived to deal with in the first place.

That had been three weeks ago.

Karflo Corporation had been gone for almost as long.

Qui-Gon and his Padawan should have been half-way to Coruscant within a week of that.

Instead the discussion dragged on and on.

Yes, the arrival of terrifying aliens from the stars was a rough way to discover space travel. And yes, the miners had done a fair bit of ecological damage and roughed up a few law-keepers and the odd adventurous youth.

But no one had died.

And actual property damage had been minimal.

So really the proposed compensation package was incredibly generous given Ti-rouka had doubtlessly been lining his pockets off the mining deal somehow anyway.

Or perhaps Qui-Gon was getting cynical in his old age.

Obi-Wan was sneaking looks at him out the corner of his eye which doubtlessly meant he’d been caught wool-gathering.

The next time he glanced over Qui-Gon met his eyes and grinned which instantly turned his Padawan bright red.

“And of course we understand your concerns,” Qui-Gon agreed smoothly the moment Ti-rouka snapped his beak shut for the final time with an aggressive head-bob to the moderator. If he couldn’t bludgeon the President with a stick he’d try, again, to knock some sense into him with words. “However given that you’ve been offered full Republic membership and samples of your diamonds have been appraised as worth almost a thousand credits per carat…”

Obi-Wan looked up from his lap – still faintly flushed – and said, “President Ti-rouka if you lease out even just one mine you’ll be able to afford that battlecruiser outright in a little over a decade.”

Rekatou – the treasurer, or perhaps Minister of Finance, they still hadn’t entirely mastered the language – clattered his beak in excitement.

“You don’t need the money to rebuild,” Obi-Wan said. He was obviously feeling impatient. “Nothing of any real value was damaged.”

Qui-Gon nodded. It was blunt, but true. “Three separate mining corporations have already expressed interest in establishing outposts here. The benefit to your planetary economy seems obvious. Why would you offend the planetary bodies you should be courting? We understand that the arrival of Karflos came as a shock but there’s no reason to close your borders entirely.”

Ti-rouka’s feathers bristled and he clearly wanted to interrupt. Qui-Gon gave him a serene look. Until he signalled the moderator or ran out of time the floor belonged to the Jedi.

Obi-Wan’s eyes had drifted to the large windows surrounding the airy council chamber. The sounds of children at play drifted through – surprisingly universal in practice.

“You have children, do you not?” he asked suddenly.

Ti-rouka froze for an instant before bobbing his head tentatively. “My mate and I have raised three clutches together.”

“Have you ever forbidden them from doing something? Sneaking down to the surface with friends, painting their feathers, anything like that?”

Obi-Wan was brilliant. Sitting there with victory in his clear blue eyes and the sun turning his hair a beautiful shade of copper Qui-Gon could _see_ the Knight he’d become.

He’d missed the President’s agreement but Qui-Gon _knew_. He’d made that mistake more than once himself.

“And how often did they sneak around behind your back and do it anyway? The same thing applies here. If you ban off-worlders they’ll sneak in and smuggle your profits away. You won’t see a single decicred. But if you license them you can control how many come, and how often.”

Ti-rouka’s eyes flashed as he made the connection. “This license – it would be expensive, wouldn’t it?”

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both grinned. The Force thrummed between them as it always did in these moments of synchronicity.

“You could charge whatever you liked,” Qui-Gon agreed. “And of course, they’d have to pay to dock their ships in your port.”

“Now, Jedi,” Ti-rouka said. He flicked his tail and bobbed his long, leathery neck in clear enthusiasm. “ _Now_ you’re speaking my language.”

***

“What a _day_ ,” Obi-Wan sighed. Despite the early hour he was clearly ready to return to their quarters. “I thought we’d never escape.”

Qui-Gon smiled down at him. “And yet, thanks to you we might be gone by the end of the week.”

The smile Obi-Wan sent in return was small but pleased. He looked away after only a few seconds and part of Qui-Gon mourned the loss. His Padawan had been practically glowing the council chamber and Qui-Gon had hoped to summon that happiness again.

He couldn’t mourn for long though. Obi-Wan was eyeing the edge of the spire and practically buzzing in the Force. The central spire dropped away into a series of ledges on this side which the locals had turned into a series of steps and elevators. He’d had the same look almost every afternoon as they left and Qui-Gon suspected this would be the day.

“I thought I might go for a run, Master.” Obi-Wan said slowly. With his head cocked like that he almost looked like a ke-ke-ri himself. Tall and slender with long legs and bright hair as fluffy as any chick’s down. “Stretch my legs a little.”

“We’ve nothing planned this afternoon,” Qui-Gon said in as calm a voice as he could muster. But Obi-Wan’s words had woken a strange desperation in him. He needed to run, spar, anything that would dispel the sudden tightness of his skin and the pounding urgency in his blood.

He’d planned to send a report to the council with news of their success and a request for a ship. But it was nothing that couldn’t wait a few hours. The same could be said of their reports and the treatise on Outer-Rim slave trading he’d been reading.

“Reckon you could keep up?” he teased. His eyes were half-lidded in the bright light of the suns and Qui-Gon’s heart throbbed and pounded even faster.

“Whichever of us makes it to the bottom last writes the reports?”

“Deal!”

Obi-Wan took off at a sprint towards the chest-high fence intended to stop people from doing exactly what they planned on doing.

Qui-Gon was only a pace behind. A quick opening burst was his greatest advantage before he had to start getting picky about landing spaces. Obi-Wan, slower, but with less bulk, could find his footing on a palms-width outcropping.

Qui-Gon launched himself into the air and somersaulted neatly over the fence. His hair whipped past his face and obscured his vision but the Force guided his fall and he rolled neatly to his feet in moments. A small tan and blue ke-ke-ri squawked in alarm as Obi-Wan followed but by that point Qui-Gon was already in the air again.

The Force whispered _Push_ and so he did, shoving himself off a nearby pillar and closer to the cliff wall.

 _Roll_ it said and _Catch_ so when his feet found solid ground he was already prepared and rolling to soften the impact. He swung over the edge and grabbed with one hand as his feet found a narrow ridge to support them.

Obi-Wan’s arc went wide, taking him atop the spire Qui-Gon had bypassed. He already felt better – the simultaneous rush of air and adrenaline acting somehow like meditation, taking him beyond himself into a purely focused sphere of thought and intention.

He tucked his feet to his chest and pushed off into another downwards leap. He couldn’t tell if he was flying or falling when he bounced off the spire a mere heartbeat before Obi-Wan plummeted through the same patch of space.

They made their way like that – launching off harsh stone, rolling to a halt atop rickety wooden elevators. By the time they were halfway to the ground his hair was a knotted mess, hands covered in grit and sand, cock hard and throbbing in his leggings but none of it registered except on the most superficial level.

Neck and neck they flung themselves towards the ground. Obi-Wan’s grin stretched from ear-to-ear as he whooped in exhilaration. An answering shout ripped itself from Qui-Gon’s throat and the Force sang around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seriously - if the porn isn't in tomorrow's chapter it will be in the one after. I just have to figure out what the fuck I'm doing first :D
> 
> (also - this is the time for requests if you want them *waggles eyebrows* no promises but maybe it'll spark something on this end)


	4. Bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We enter the porn stage - not done, not nearly, but life hit me and I wanted to a) assuage my guilt over taking so very long to update and b) reassure you lot that this isn't abandoned :)
> 
> Anyway - enjoy? I won't put a timeline on the rest but hopefully one more chapter will see us through and with luck I'll have that finished sooner than this one :D

His eyes burned and blurred with the force of the air as he fell. He hit with a twist, a roll, and speedy leap to avoid the snapping jaws of a large reptile sunning on the large ledge he’d chosen as a temporary landing space.

But however fast he threw himself towards the rapidly approaching planetary surface, Obi-Wan fell faster, driven by the same determination and need for victory he’d shown even in the crèche.

A low growl rumbled unnoticed from Qui-Gon’s throat and every inch of skin seemed to prickle as his metaphorical hackles rose.

That same drive, carried up by the rushing wind, now filled him as well.

Half a klick below, and intolerably near to the ground, Obi-Wan came to a graceful halt clinging to what looked to be a sheer cliff. Not a pebble was dislodged or dust-cloud raised as he landed on what must have been a series of finger-thin ledges.

Qui-Gon’s eyes narrowed and he made his own landing with a showy backflip, hastily shoving down the urge to cough as his swirling robes raised a puff of dry earth.

Time seemed to stretch even as distance compressed. Qui-Gon could see the sweep of Obi-Wan’s collarbones beneath his robes and count each dark eyelash as it brushed pale skin. Drawn by the Force, or by something even more fundamental, he stepped off the ledge and plummeted towards Obi-Wan.

He cut through the air in a smooth arc like a long, dark spear. Obi-Wan waited patiently with no sign of strain on his face, only mischief shining in his bright blue eyes.

Two more such steps, then three, and he was almost within reach.

With a wild laugh Obi-Wan threw himself once more into the air and away from Qui-Gon.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Qui-Gon murmured so quietly the sound barely reached his own ears.

He took a deep, centring breath.

There was still _one_ way to win this race.

This time when he threw himself into the air it wasn’t straight towards the ground but in a shallow, sloping arc that would bring him into Obi-Wan’s path – **now**.

Obi-Wan yelped and spun in mid-air to face him just as Qui-Gon grasped a handful of his tunic. Qui-Gon used the momentum to pull himself under and around Obi-Wan and hold on tight.

Obi-Wan didn’t struggle. His body went limp and accepting against Qui-Gon’s own, safely cushioned from the impact.

They hit.

Qui-Gon ducked his shoulder and tucked them into a clumsy roll but the crash still jarred hips and shoulders. Stray limbs banged against the coarse soil and dragged up clouds of dust as they rolled along like the galaxy’s largest tumbleweed. Between the crash and the protracted struggle for breath Qui-Gon’s head was reeling.

Finally they slammed into a small stone outcropping and came to an abrupt halt. For a long moment they lay stunned, still pressed length-to-length. Harsh panting was the only sound as they tried to force dusty air into their lungs.

“What the _Sith_ , Master?” Obi-Wan eventually asked. He sounded dazed and amused.

Qui-Gon lifted his head to respond.

His gaze caught on a trickle of red along Obi-Wan’s jaw where a patch of skin had been scraped away despite his best efforts.

The scent of iron-rich blood slammed through him along with a blazing awareness of how close they were pressed. Qui-Gon’s body covered every inch of Obi-Wan’s own. One arm cradled Obi-Wan’s head. The other wrapped about his hips, keeping him close – keeping him safe.

Unthinkingly, Qui-Gon ducked his head to lap delicately at Obi-Wan’s neck

“Master?”

There was blood, yes – which went a long way to satisfying this strange hunger – but also the salt of skin and sweat which made him thirst for more. His tongue traced down Obi-Wan’s neck and along his jaw until he was certain he’d cleaned away every last drop of blood and even then it wasn’t quite enough.

“Seriously, Master, what -?”

Obi-Wan squirmed – trying to rub damp skin dry on his robes – and pleasure blazed up Qui-Gon’s spine. He couldn’t remember when he’d become hard but he didn’t particularly care because even that accidental friction was enough to make his toes curl in his boots.

His grip tightened reflexively and Obi-Wan stilled.

Qui-Gon’s heart thundered – instincts rooted even deeper than those which currently held him in their grip whispered that this was important.

With a low moan of displeasure he obeyed. He pulled himself back and away. Barely at all, barely a handspan, but enough to leave a few crucial inches between their chests and hips.

Obi-Wan stared at him intently. His blue eyes were blown wide and his nostrils flared as he took in Qui-Gon’s scent beneath the near over-powering notes of earth and iron.

“Oh, _kriff,_ ” he sighed. “It had to be like this, didn’t it, Master?” The words carried as much meaning to Qui-Gon as the scuttle of distant life-forms but enough sense remained to tuck them away for later pondering.

One of Obi-Wan’s hands came up to twine through Qui-Gon’s hair, pulling him back in. The other was a hot weight on the base of Qui-Gon’s spine clutching and grasping as it encouraged him to press down and rock against Obi-Wan’s thigh.

Qui-Gon groaned in relief and sank his teeth into Obi-Wan’s earlobe, tugging and sucking on the sensitive flesh.

Obi-Wan shivered.

That was lovely.

Equally lovely was how Obi-Wan lifted his hips and rocked into Qui-Gon’s next thrust. He moaned, low and _filthy_ , and Qui-Gon’s fraying patience evaporated entirely at the sound.

He had to hear more.

With a moan of his own Qui-Gon scrabbled frantically at their robes. Seams tore under his hands as he tugged fruitlessly at the complicated layers in his desperation for more skin, more heat.

Obi-Wan bucked and gasped when Qui-Gon’s nails scraped skin.

“ _F_ - _f_ - _fuck_ , Master!”

A second pair of hands joined his own. The robes fell away faster now without tearing – leggings, tabards, tunics strewn about the landscape – and Qui-Gon mouthed frantically at every inch of revealed skin.

There were shallow grazes on Obi-Wan’s hands to receive soft flicks of his tongue and a spot just where his neck and shoulder met that, when bitten gently, made Obi-Wan’s scent lie thick and heavy in the air until Qui-Gon could taste it in the back of his throat.

Obi-Wan’s chest heaved with the need for air when Qui-Gon finally pulled back to look at him. His face was flushed a soft pink which travelled down his neck and faded into cream just below his ribs. Pale freckles dotted his arms and shoulders. As the seconds drew out the pink grew deeper – especially around his ears. Soon it matched the rosy flush of his erection. It was thinner than Qui-Gon’s own but long and with a defined curve.

It was a cock made for sitting on – for straddling your partner and riding hard as you exchanged increasingly clumsy kisses until your arms gave out and your body succumbed to orgasm – and Qui-Gon swore to himself he’d do exactly that.

But later.

Later when his own cock didn’t ache with the need to knot.

“Beautiful,” Qui-Gon whispered. His voice was hoarse even to his own ears.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered away. “You’re rut-drunk, Master.”

The muscles on Qui-Gon’s back rippled in a kind of shrug-that-wasn’t. Perhaps he was rut-drunk.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t also right.

But arguing meant words and meant concentrating and meant holding the fire in his blood back even longer so instead he leaned down and brushed his lips against Obi-Wan’s in a kiss. Their first he realised with a soft whine as Obi-Wan gasped and opened for him.

There was, he knew, a reason he hadn’t spent his entire life kissing Obi-Wan but he couldn’t imagine what it might be. Why under the stars would he forgo the delight of Obi-Wan’s soft lips, the quiet moans, the mingling of their scents as skin rubbed against skin?

“Force, you’re wet for me, aren’t you?” he breathed. He could smell it – not strong enough for his omega to be in heat but strong enough to show he’d be receptive to rutting.

Obi-Wan grabbed Qui-Gon’s hand and dragged it between his legs. “You’ve no idea,” he said with a shaky laugh.

Warm wetness coated Obi-Wan’s upper thighs. He dragged his fingers slowly up and back to Obi-Wan’s entrance coating them with slick.

 

 

 

 


	5. Beg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. We're nearly done - I'd have written us to the end tonight but I'm shattered. Next chapter will be a while probably; I'm in the middle of moving. Upside, it seems to have kicked the writing urge into overload; Downside, I just don't have the time :D
> 
> Anyway enjoy!

The first finger slid in so easily Qui-Gon immediately followed it with a second. Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open and a surprised moan fell out.

He was stunning like this. Warm and wet and so very willing and Qui-Gon couldn’t _not_ watch Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter shut as his fingers pressed steadily deeper and opened Obi-Wan for his cock.

Obi-Wan arched his spine and thrust back – hard.

“More, damn you!” he panted between harsh gasps for air. “I won’t break.”

“Maybe I want you tight,” Qui-Gon suggested as he gently nudged another finger against Obi-Wan’s entrance. Enthusiasm aside, the skin was so taut he didn’t dare yet and focused instead on twisting his wrist to work his fingers closer to Obi-Wan’s prostate.

“Maybe I want you utterly overwhelmed. Wrecked for any knot but mine.”

It could have been the words or his fingers finally grazing Obi-Wan’s prostate but Obi-Wan’s cock jerked and he whined high in his throat. His hands scraped fiery trails across Qui-Gon’s back as Obi-Wan clenched down on his fingers.

“Kiss me again?” Obi-Wan asked. He was shyer about this than anything else and Qui-Gon felt a growl building deep in his chest that someone had taught Obi-Wan to expect rejection here.

Having such a responsive partner was a true delight and Qui-Gon’s arousal blazed as they traded kisses back and forth. With one arm braced against the ground and the other buried deep within Obi-Wan his mouth was all he had and it leant a perverse thrill to the encounter as Obi-Wan cradled his jaw in both hands and took control, tilting Qui-Gon’s head as he pleased.

Shivers sped up Qui-Gon’s spine when Obi-Wan rasped out a low growl and fisted a hand in his hair. Obi-Wan groaned quietly when he noticed. Every few moments after that he’d interrupt their kisses with a gentle tug to the roots, pulling Qui-Gon away so Obi-Wan could suck bruises into his neck and shoulders.

Obi-Wan’s muscles slowly relaxed as they kissed until Qui-Gon was able to work a third and eventually fourth finger inside him. He ached to replace them with his cock but wanted Obi-Wan right to the edge first. Wanted him so close to coming he’d cry out in protest at the emptiness of his hole when Qui-Gon removed his fingers. So close Qui-Gon could just slide right in to the root with no pause for adjustment.

 _Fuck_ but he’d be so pretty in heat.

Qui-Gon ducked his head away from the intoxication of Obi-Wan’s kisses – thrilling as the tension in his hair reminded him Obi-Wan was _letting_ him do so – and nuzzled the scent glands at the base of Obi-Wan’s throat as he shuddered and cried out. His head was tipped back and the skin there was so pale and smooth. It needed his teeth the same way Qui-Gon’s instincts clamoured to bond them.

He _wished_ – but with a soft kiss he withdrew to press more love bites to the (safer) skin of Obi-Wan’s jaw.

A nudge on his chin distracted him. Obi-Wan’s free hand curled by his face, still softly cupping his jaw.

Qui-Gon took a long moment to draw two fingers into his mouth, felt them press heavy against his tongue as he worked them over with bold licks and careful scrapes of his teeth.

His eyes drifted out of focus for a moment, half closing in pleasure. Sex felt so unimportant on the implant and it had been easy to let it fall off his radar until he’d honestly forgotten how much he enjoyed sucking cock.

“Master!” Obi-Wan’s voice broke as he rutted against Qui-Gon’s thigh. “Please, gods, don’t tease. I need – I, please!”

That was what he’d been waiting for. Obi-Wan’s hand fisted tighter in his hair as he writhed against Qui-Gon for any stimulation he could find.

Qui-Gon pulled his fingers free and wrapped them around his cock. He stroked himself twice –being sure to cover his entire shaft with a layer of Obi-Wan’s slick.

Obi-Wan tossed his head in clear frustration. “Come on - I can take it!”

Wet as he was, he probably could. But Qui-Gon was built on proportions that gave birth to the Alpha stereotype and whatever calibre of lovers his Padawan was used to he refused to be cavalier with Obi-Wan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always let me know what you think and concrit is always welcome!


	6. Burst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay everybody! But we're here at last. The final chapter (with short epilogue type whatsit to be uploaded directly after this). Thank you all for coming on this ride with me ;)

He pressed in slowly – achingly so. Obi-Wan relaxed around his girth with a sigh of obvious satisfaction, calmed by anticipation of, Qui-Gon assumed, a fast, hard rutting.

Qui-Gon’s hips stuttered. Sith hells but he wanted.

Wanted to thrust and bite and _fuck_.

But he drew back out with the same controlled speed. His eyes fluttered closed in bliss as he felt Obi-Wan open for him again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Obi-Wan hissed beneath him and tightened his fist in Qui-Gon’s hair.

“Please, yes. Deeper. Oh- _gods!_ ” His voice broke when Qui-Gon ground his hips at the end of his next thrust. Made sure to rub his belly against Obi-Wan’s cock. Obi-Wan jerked half off the ground in response, hands and ass tightening almost painfully where they gripped Qui-Gon’s flesh.

Firm thighs wrapped around Qui-Gon’s waist as Obi-Wan tossed his head in frustration. That gorgeous red hair was plastered to his skin as he writhed, using spectacular muscular control and what little leverage he could get to fuck himself on Qui-Gon’s shaft.

“That’s it,” Qui-Gon breathed, barely aware he was speaking. “Want you desperate, want you dripping. It’ll be so _good_ when you come.” He dropped his head to press soft kisses to Obi-Wan’s neck. Filth still spilling from his lips between kisses and nips. “Look at you – fucking gorgeous – can’t wait to see you all fucked out. You’ll take my entire knot and thank me for it.”

Heat burst across Qui-Gon’s belly as Obi-Wan let out a guttural cry. Every muscle stood out in sharp definition for a moment as Obi-Wan clenched down tight enough to feel like a knotting. Their mingled scents took on the note unique to a satisfied omega, a warning and advertisement of their activities.

“Good boy,” Qui-Gon breathed and Obi-Wan whimpered. The soft sound went straight to Qui-Gon’s knot and he froze while cock and consciousness entered a desperate battle for control. The warmth of twin suns and Obi-Wan’s soft skin around him. Ragged breath in his ears. The scent of happy, horny omega – like burnt caramel and raw honey against the softer, earthier scents of the canyon.

Obi-Wan nuzzled Qui-Gon’s jawline, clearly lacking the coordination for a kiss. Despite his state of near boneless bliss he was locked tight around Qui-Gon’s cock and Qui-Gon realised that was due to his own half-blown state. Gods all but he’d been hovering on the edge and good as tipping over would feel he wanted as much from Obi-Wan as he could get.

There were very few moments he’d rather inhabit than this.

So very few - and a primal urge told him he could have it, have this, have Obi-Wan forever if he just knotted and _bit_ and claimed.

But the part of his mind that cared about consequences and tomorrow was filled with an urge not to ruin Obi-Wan. To treat him gently and well and prove that Qui-Gon was safe and Obi-Wan could be his.

Doing that meant reining in the rut and turning a piece of disastrous misfortune into an opportunity even as his body wanted to shove Obi-Wan over onto his knees and press his face down into the dirt and _rut_ until Obi-Wan’s ass was impossibly full with his seed.

Next time, he promised himself desperately.

Next time when Obi-Wan’s heat synced with up his rut and they had a soft mattress to cushion Obi-Wan’s knees rather than a few layers of fabric doing a piss-poor job keeping out the grit and gravel.

Next time.

_Perhaps_ there could be a next time.

He poured his hunger into kisses instead, sucking more brilliant bruises next to those already blossoming on Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulders. This rut was for gentle, was for trust. Was for building next time’s foundation. The uncivil urges of biology would damn well wait.

Eventually Obi-Wan pulled back with a laugh. “How the force-driven-hells are you still so in control?” He held up a hand and they both watched it shake for a moment. “I’m not even the one doing the hormonal kavadango.”

His arms wrapped around Qui-Gon’s neck, pulling him into an embrace even as his hips started to rock gently up against Qui-Gon. The momentary tightness in Qui-Gon’s chest unclenched and he took up his own slow rhythm again.

“I have what I need.” Qui-Gon said as he dared a deeper thrust. “I have you, and you’ll take my knot when I’m ready, won’t you?”

Obi-Wan shuddered and breathed an emphatic “yes!”

Qui-Gon’s knot caught for an instant and Obi-Wan’s eyes went wide in his head. His pale teeth were vivid against kiss-red flesh as he bit his lip.

“Then there’s no hurry,” Qui-Gon said through a shuddering moan. “I can fuck you through the night if I want to. Make you come _again_ and _again-”_

A hand landed harsh on his ass and another wound through his hair again, tugging his head back so Obi-Wan could bite viciously at his neck. “Gods, yes Obi-Wan. Mark me up – want to go home with your bite on my neck, drenched in your scent-”

In a move that must have been Force-assisted Obi-Wan managed to roll them over without dislodging Qui-Gon’s shaft.

One hand braced against the ground while the other flew to his cock with desperate need.  

His hole was slick around Qui-Gon’s cock - even with his knot half-formed - and Qui-Gon was able to thrust _hard_ just as Obi-Wan reached his peak again.

Those sweet blue eyes rolled back in his head and his whole body went limp as he came.

Half-slumped on his elbows Obi-Wan panted for breath. “Sorry, fuck, sorry, give me a minute, _fuck_ , Master your _mouth_ -”

“Next time,” Qui-Gon suggested absently as he settled his hands on Obi-Wan’s hips. “You can have my mouth, my ass – I’m going to ride you just like this if you let me.”

Obi-Wan shivered with half closed eyes and ground down on Qui-Gon’s cock, on his half-blown knot. “Believe me. You’ll just have to say the word.”

Qui-Gon grabbed Obi-Wan’s hips. They felt small in his hands but that impression was belied by the muscular roll of Obi-Wan’s abdomen as he rose and fell in painfully slow progression.

A breathless groan escaped Qui-Gon unbidden. His entire body ached with frustrated need.

“That’s right,” Obi-Wan agreed as he moved. His hands fluttered soothingly across Qui-Gon’s chest in gentle strokes. “You like it nice and slow. Just look at you. You’re _shaking_ with how much you want to breed me.” And sweet Sith he was. He was so close it hurt.

“Force, you’re already huge. It’s going to feel so good when you come, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan asked. “No wonder you wanted me so wet.”

“Please,” Qui-Gon breathed. He couldn’t-

Obi-Wan leaned down and placed a soft kiss to the base of his throat. “I’ve got you,” he soothed.

A soft scrape of teeth and Qui-Gon felt it in his bones. His hands tightened on Obi-Wan until they ached and suddenly Obi-Wan was clenched tight - _so tight_ \- around his swollen knot.

He planted his feet and drove himself upwards, arms pulling Obi-Wan close in a frenzy of sudden need. A strangled scream died in his throat and just like that, with Obi-Wan nestled in his arms and tears prickling his eyes, Qui-Gon came and came and came.


	7. Bloom

By the time Qui-Gon came back to himself many hours later he was parched, exhausted, and bitterly ashamed.

Hovering above him on hands and knees, hot mouth still wrapped around his softening shaft, Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow. Qui-Gon yanked his hand back from where it cupped Obi-Wan’s cheek.

“I wondered if this would be it,” Obi-Wan said. His voice was hoarse and lips pink and puffy from their activities. “How are you feeling?”

Qui-Gon closed his eyes in horror as lust rocketed through him. Naked as he was, and with his cock inches from Obi-Wan’s face, he doubted it concealed anything.

“Like shit then,” Obi-Wan concluded. “Wroshyrberry?”

The fist sized nuts of the wroshyr tree were a popular travel-snack among the jedi order. The rock-hard shell protected not just sweet, purple flesh but a cluster of juice-filled inner ‘berries’ that popped refreshingly in the mouth.

Obi-Wan twisted to sit against his side and something soft nudged his lips. He opened for it with a quiet sigh.

“More importantly,” he asked once the water of the wroshyrberry had soothed his aching throat. “Are you-”  _ injured, alright, scared? _

Obi-Wan chuckled and Qui-gon could feel him stretch and settle back - somehow even closer. “Well you’ve ruined me for other alphas, but aside from some of the best sex of my life, never better.”

Qui-Gon had to open his eyes at that so he could glare at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan twisted his head around to stare placidly back. “You didn’t hurt me, Master, and it wasn’t your fault.”

“Like  _ fuck _ it wasn’t!”

“Did you know your implant was faulty?”

His lips tightened. Faulty or not he should have realised. Should have stopped himself, should have done something, anything else than - and he cut that train of thought off as images of exactly what he  _ had _ done gathered behind his eyes in numbers as great as the recriminations behind his teeth. 

The shadows in the canyon deepened around them as the final sun crept towards the horizon. Obi-Wan tugged their robes over with the force and arranged them into crude blankets against the late evening chill.

“Sleep, Master,” Obi-Wan said. “If you’re going to insist on a walk of shame we might as well wait until dark.”

With a yawn his padawan curled up warm by his side, so close Qui-Gon couldn’t help but inhale the scents of sex and satisfied omega with every breath. He waited until Obi-Wan’s breathing had evened out and his limbs were heavy before curling closer and burying his face in Obi-Wan’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He needed to say it whether or not Obi-Wan wanted to hear it. Surprisingly, Obi-Wan hummed back, less asleep than Qui-Gon thought.

“Me too. Wanted to court you someday.” Sleepily Obi-Wan rolled over and pressed a soft kiss to Qui-Gon’s chest. “Know you won’t want that now.”

Grief welled up in Qui-Gon’s chest alongside a hope he didn’t have the strength to deny just then. Which was worse? Lost chances? Or second chances he’d never allow himself to take?

“We  _ can’t _ , Obi-Wan.”

“We could.” Obi-Wan argued, eyes still closed, and Qui-Gon realised he wasn’t asleep at all anymore. Just hiding from a truth he didn’t want to hear. “When I’m knighted.”

Qui-Gon’s arms tightened reflexively. 

“I’ll give you time,” Obi-Wan continued. “I always planned to, but one day I want to do this again in our own rooms. Your rut and my heat-”

“In our bed.” Qui-Gon finished. The words were barely audible, forced out through the fear and shame, but he couldn’t fail to meet this final demonstration of Obi-Wan’s strength.

Obi-Wan’s breath was warm against Qui-Gon’s skin as he sighed. 

“I know the objections, Master. I truly do, which is why I was going to wait. But once I realised what was happening -” he shook his head and squirmed closer to Qui-Gon. “We’re so close to finishing the negotiations and I couldn’t have kept you sedated all the way back to the temple. Not with you in rut. And if it was going to happen like this I wanted you to know that I chose, not that you’d overcome me somehow.”

Qui-Gon pondered this for several long moments. By the time he spoke Obi-Wan was more in his arms than out of them. “I would have liked if that choice had come under different circumstances. He fluttered his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair - with an especial, affectionate tug on his braid - so his padawan would know what he had to say next wasn’t meant as censure. “Preferably ones where I might have made that same choice myself.”

Obi-Wan nodded beneath his chin. “I understand. I guess, now that my cards are on the table, so to speak …” he trailed off. Took a deep breath. “The next choice could be yours? When you’re ready? If you wanted to court me - I could wait for that.”

Perhaps it was the lingering hormonal remnants of rut but Qui-Gon couldn’t help remembering how certain he’d felt, how right and how good Obi-Wan had felt against him. 

“When you’re knighted,” he agreed. “When I’m ready.”

And next time they’d do things properly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments, your kudos, and even for your lurking presences as I've crawled my way through this fic.
> 
> Next on the list - a potential update to Frenzy!
> 
> Stay tuned (but, like, don't hold your breaths while you do that. Stay passively tuned - stay subscribed! But you all know me by now lol so expect a decent wait!)


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